


Fan Artists Fucking Rule

by Just_Bonesy



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action, Author is Open to Constructive Criticism, Celebrating LU Fan Artists on the Discord Server, Character Study, F/M, Ficlet Collection, For Artist Appreciation Day, Gen, Humor, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), One Shot Collection, Shipping is in chapter 5, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27192674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Bonesy/pseuds/Just_Bonesy
Summary: A collection of ficlets and oneshots inspired by works of Linked Universe fan art created by members of the LU Discord server, written to commemorate Artist Appreciation Day.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	1. Shook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this piece of fanart by Vanya (@_mama_vanya_ on Instagram): https://www.instagram.com/p/CEU2oUjnorC/?igshid=3od66r1cbtpe

After such a revelatory conversation, after such eye-opening discoveries, it seemed almost anticlimactic to proceed with something so mundane as dinner. And yet, the Heroes of Courage did exactly that. They ate and they talked. They talked about anything they could think of but the conversation that had preceded their meal. There was no explicit agreement, no mandated direction. Like the old man had said, that had been discussed enough. Now was the time to tell stories and laugh. It was the old man himself who was the first to set down his bowl and stand from his spot around the campfire. He raised his voice to be heard over the laughter of his boys as he picked his way through the gathering to head towards the nearby river.

“Well, if you’ll all excuse me, I’ll be back after a moment.”

“You’re not gonna ask one of us to shake it for you, are you, Old Man?” Warriors said with a grin before shoveling another spoonful of potato stew into his mouth.

“If you’re volunteering, you needn’t be so coy about it.” A chorus of chuckles and snorts hummed around the party, and Warriors wagged his spoon toward Time.

“A’ri’, yoo wih ‘at wuh,” the captain said around the food in his mouth.

Time’s path took him right past Wind, the archaeologist of unknowable truth, and he made sure to give the younger hero an earnest smile when their eyes met. He knelt down and ruffled the kid’s hair as he passed. His feet carried him away from the others, deeper and deeper into the woods where he could have some privacy to do his business.

He finally stopped and looked back down the path he’d just made. He could only see the faintest flicker of the campfire through the trees, and only the most raucous of laughter reached his ears. Now sure that he could relieve himself in peace, Time took a deep, audible breath in through his nose, clamped both hands over his mouth, and _screamed._ He screamed a long, loud, muffled hum of whatever the fuck this was that he was feeling, he sure as shit didn’t know what it was, but fuck, man, it had to _go._ Both of his eyes bulged open and his face started to turn red from the exertion. He kept screaming until his lungs were empty, then he pulled his hands away from his mouth to take a breath in, and clamped them back on to start all over again. When he finished the second scream, his hands slid up his face and his fingers clenched the wild strands of his hair.

 _“What the fuuuuuuuuck,”_ he whispered, both eyes still wide open. “What the fuck what the fuck _what the fuckwhatthefuck.”_ He took another deep breath, this one to actually calm himself. His hands slid down his face to hang limply at his sides, his right eye slid closed, and his left eye shrank into a distant gaze. “What the fu—”

The sudden snap of a branch triggered Time to spin around, ready to face any foe, any danger…

Only to find himself face to face with the owl, sitting on a tree branch and staring at him.

Time blinked at the owl.

The owl blinked at Time.

Time blinked again and a thought suddenly occurred to him. _“You,”_ he whispered in a tone that sounded an awful lot like a threat. “Did you know about this?”

The owl rotated its head and blinked at Time again.

Time held his glare and blinked at the owl again.

They stared at each other in silence....until the owl finally revealed the truth.

“Shit, dude, I don’t even know how to spell my own name, you can’t expect me to keep track of _that_ mess, too.”

With that, the owl took flight and flew off into the distance.

Time watched it soar away, his glare melting into a blank look. He looked back into the middle distance and took another deep breath. This was okay. This was okay. He’d made it his whole life without knowing about all of this, the ramifications didn’t exist, and they didn’t have to exist, he didn’t have to pay them too much mind. He could only do so much, he was only mortal, after all, right? And if the goddesses had put such powers at his fingertips then surely they had things sorted out to minimize any problems, and Time’s hands suddenly flew back to his hair again when he realized _he didn’t know how to spell the owl’s name either what the fuuuuuuck_


	2. Rhythm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this piece of fanart by Russ (@russ_reimroc_ on Instagram): https://www.instagram.com/p/CB5DRf_FU5l/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

They shared so much in common that it was hard to know where to start. Well, no, actually it was very easy to know where to start: they all shared the same name, after all. But after that, it was a total toss up. They shared hardships. They shared discoveries. They shared grief and triumph and loss and joy.

But most universally of all, they shared music.

It was inevitable that one would draw their instrument and play. It was inevitable that another would offer to join in. And like the rolling stones that become a landslide, this band of music-loving heroes became...well, a band. Of sorts.

There were no songs that they all knew. They would improvise. Let whatever happened, happen. _Roll_ with it. And together, they made songs all their own that would be played once and carried away on the wind into the stream of time.

They did not all play, though. Perhaps it was inaccurate to say music was their most universal commonality. Perhaps it was truer to say that they shared _rhythm._

The musicians played the rhythm of their music.

The captain danced to the rhythm of combat.

The smith worked to a rhythm of hammers and heat and cooling.

And the cook cooked to the rhythm of the meal.

What they all shared in common, what they shared more intrinsically than even their own names, were the metronomes in their chests. The metronomes that counted the beats in their lives.

The metronomes that all nine Heroes of Courage, musicians all, played their music to.


	3. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this piece of fanart by NajikaSun on Tumblr: https://najikasunart.tumblr.com/post/625200506215809024/final-entry-for-this-month-long-project-red-i

Who is Red? What is red?

Red is the pride he feels when he sees the appreciation in a customer’s eyes while they examine their new blade.

Red is the warmth he feels in his chest when he’s sitting around a campfire with his comrades.

Red is all of the blood that rushes to his face when he laughs so hard at one of their jokes that he runs out of air but his chest just keeps squeezing.

Red is the heart that pumps just a little bit faster in his chest as he steadies the shield under his feet.

Red is the sense of satisfaction he feels when he catches sight of Time at the bottom of the hill, when he catches the _quickest_ flash of surprise in the old man’s eye at seeing the level-headed smith at the starting line.

Red is the excitement in his gut when he tips the shield forward and begins to ride down the slope.

Red is the glee he feels as he prepares to execute his plan.

Red is the anticipation of seeing the looks on everyone’s faces.

Red is the smile on his face as his body cuts through the wind and he rockets down the hill toward the natural ramp that Wild and Wind had jumped minutes earlier.

Red is the feeling of _yaHOOOOOOO_ in his entire body as the shield leaves the ground.

And then he’s _flying_ through the air and Red is _freedom._

He is flying and free and his feet leave the shield as he _soars_ and turns and grins and now he’s got a fucking _fire rod in his hand WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN **GAAHHHH**_


	4. Once Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a piece of fanart created by Eliza. It's not posted online, I received it in a DM, but it's a drawing of Time wearing the Royal Guard uniform from BotW.

The first thing Time did when he emerged from the portal was to scan the immediate area for any threats. Warriors and Legend were already doing the same, but he couldn’t help himself. Behind him, he heard the other seven Heroes of Courage step out of the portal one by one. He looked back to check on them and found them also scouting their surroundings. It may have been redundant for all nine of them to ensure the coast was clear, but he couldn’t blame any of them. This was only their second portal to travel through as a group, after all. The surroundings they all examined were a grassy, rocky hilltop with an odd stone structure that emitted glowing, blue lights. After the ninth hero had stepped out of the portal, the temporal doorway closed and left them to their devices.

“Anyone recognize this place?” Time asked.

“I do,” Wild said with a smile as he walked through the group and called back over his shoulder, “this is the Ta’loh Naeg Shrine.”

“How close are we to a town?” Warriors asked as he and the others fell in behind the champion. The group didn’t go very far before it came to a stop at an apple tree overlooking a village nestled in a small valley. Figures in beige clothing below walked between houses and buildings in an architectural style that Time had never seen before

“Close,” Wild finally answered with a small smile. “Welcome to Kakariko Village.”

Time couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “The Impa of your time lives here, right?”

“Yeah, there in the big house,” the champion answered, pointing towards the house that overlooked the whole village. “Zelda’s there, too.”

“Hm. That seems like the obvious first stop, then. Lead the way.” As he followed Wild down the path toward the village, Time took in the sight of the settlement. The houses were topped with thatched roofs, lines of rope criss crossed over the walking paths, and banners hung from those lines and danced in the breeze. He looked about and took note of the clear blue sky visible above the rocky ridges that encircled the village. “How far are we from Death Mountain?”

“Five days at the least, on horseback. Why?”

“In my time, Kakariko Village sat at its feet.”

“Really? Huh.”

“Mine, too,” Twilight added from behind Time’s left shoulder.

“Your what?” Legend asked from a few paces behind the rancher.

“Time. In mine and the old man’s eras, Kakariko Village sits at the base of Death Mountain.”

“Oh. In mine, it’s on the whole other end of Hyrule.”

Time grinned. “More and more, we learn of so many similarities and so many differences.”

The party made it to the village proper and made its way toward Impa’s house. Wild briefly greeted the guards at the foot of the stairs and introduced his friends before leading the nine Heroes of Courage up the steps. The champion pushed the doors open and the rest followed him inside. Time’s eye immediately zeroed in on the other side of the main hall, where he caught sight of a large, pointed hat with a wide brim decorated by hanging chains and blades. It took him two seconds to notice the small figure who wore it, their face hidden by the brim until they raised their head. The stern countenance of an old woman revealed itself before blooming into a smile at the sight before her.

“Hello, Link. I see you’ve brought company.”

“Hello, Impa,” Wild replied with a smile of his own. “These are my friends. We have a lot to fill you in on, but Zelda needs to hear it too. Is she here?”

His answer came with the sound of feet trotting down the stairs to Impa’s right in a quick tempo, All nine heroes’ gazes turned there and found the sight of a young woman with blonde hair hurrying down the stairs and coming to a sudden stop. The slight smile that had formed on her face disappeared as she took in the sight of the group, and Time didn’t miss the way her green eyes halted and widened just the faintest bit when they crossed his face. When her eyes found Wild again, however, her smile returned.

“Link, it’s so good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Zelda. I don’t know how long it’s been for you two since you last saw me, but I’m afraid I’ve been busy again.”

Impa nodded with a hum. “Perhaps you should all settle down and explain.”

“I’ll go get Paya,” Zelda said. “She’s been worried for you, and hearing this might put her at ease.”

As she turned and headed back upstairs, the nine heroes moved up to take their seats on the floor, forming a half-circle before Impa. Zelda returned with a young woman approximately her and Wild’s pre-coma ages, who Time presumed was the aforementioned Paya. He also couldn’t help but notice that she now carried a leather satchel in her hands. When the two young ladies took their seats on either side of Impa, the princess sat the bag on the floor beside her. He put his eye back on Wild as the champion began to recount the past few months. Zelda and Impa seemed suitably unfazed by the revelation that they were sitting before eight other heroes from Hyrule’s history, including the co-founder of Hyrule himself, and conversation soon turned to the heroes’ next steps. Responsibilities for restocking on supplies and asking around for any unusual sights or monster activities were divvied up,and the nine heroes stood and thanked the elder and the princess for their hospitality. They were almost to the front doors when Zelda stopped them in their tracks with a single question.

“One of you is the Hero of Time, correct?”

At the rear of the party of heroes, Time turned around to face the princess and heard all eight of his comrades do the same behind him. His left eye met her right across the expanse of the main hall, and in it he saw uncertainty. “Yes.”

She held his gaze in silence, perhaps waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “I wish to speak with you.”

Time heard the movements of his comrades looking amongst each other. The buzzing current of curiosity in the air grew thicker. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he gave her a small smile. “I never said _I_ was him.”

That seemed to surprise her, if the way she blinked told him anything. She returned a smile of her own, one that made Time feel as though she were sharing a secret with him. “You are, though, aren’t you.”

That certainly wasn’t a question. The uncertainty had mostly thawed from her eye, but she still bore something on her mind. Time slumped his shoulders, a melodramatic grimace on his face as he raised his hands. “You’ve caught me.” That earned an actual giggle from the princess. “How may I help you, Your Majesty?”

That one question seemed to undo all of Time’s work to put her mind at ease. Her smile faded away and her eyes darted past him before returning back to his. “I need to speak with you. Privately.”

That seemed to be all Impa and Paya needed to hear. The younger Sheikah rose and helped her grandmother to stand before walking with the elder toward the stairs. Time turned back to the others and nodded to them. “Go on. I’ll be along shortly.”

His gaze fell on Wild, whose eyes were overflowing with confusion and curiosity. The champion finally nodded and made his way to the doors. The others followed suit, and Time watched them until the doors closed behind them. He turned back to find the princess walking towards him with the leather satchel in her hands. Stepping forward to meet her in the center of the room, Time said, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Please don’t call me that,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Until we’ve made tangible progress in our rebuilding efforts, I would rather simply be ‘Zelda.’”

“Very well, then. What do you wish to speak to me about?”

Zelda’s eyes fell to the satchel before she held it out to him. “I’m supposed to give you this and tell you that you should put it on when you see others wearing it.”

Time felt a familiar sensation in his gut. A hunch. The kind of hunch that had guided him through all of his adventures, the kind that always seemed to be a step ahead of his conscious mind. Right now, the hunch told him that something was up. Something was definitely up. But something was very clearly weighing on Zelda, and whatever this was, it was important. He took the satchel from her hands and looked inside it. There, he found fine, embroidered cloth of royal blue, crimson, white, and gold.

“I’m also supposed to tell you,” Zelda continued, “that my favorite meal is seafood meuniere made with hearty bass and bright-eyed crab.”

Time looked up from the satchel with a frown. “You’re ‘supposed’ to tell me this?” He received a nod in response and closed the satchel. He stepped forward to close the distance between them and spoke in a whisper. “Are you being forced to do this?”

“No,” Zelda said with such finality that he didn’t doubt her for a second. Until her eyes darted away and her brows furrowed, that is. “Well, I suppose that depends on one’s view of— _no._ I’m not doing this under duress or against my will. It’s what I _need_ to do.”

Time looked at her for two more seconds before nodding and stowing the satchel away in his magic, adventuring pouch. “Is there anything else I’m supposed to know?”

“No,” Zelda said. Another smile, the largest he’d seen on her face since she’d first seen Wild, lit up her eyes. “But I do want to say that I’m still grateful.”

Time couldn’t help but smile back, despite his confusion. “If that is all, Your Ma— _Zelda,_ I should regroup with my companions.”

“Please do. And please make sure to visit us again before you leave the village.”

Time bowed his head and made his way out onto the porch. He stood there and gazed about the village as he mulled over the conversation. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew _exactly_ what was going on, but now all he could do was wait for—

A sound to his right drew Time’s gaze to the corner of the house, where he saw a small figure dart out of sight in a flash of yellow and light blue. A smirk grew on his face like a weed. Keeping his eye on the corner, he reached into his adventuring pouch and withdrew his trusty Stone Mask. He pressed it to his face and quietly walked along the porch and rounded the corner at a wide berth, expecting to find the sailor trying to keep out of sight. Instead, he saw the same flash of yellow and blue dart behind the corner leading to the rear of the house. Time’s eye narrowed behind his mask and he wondered if Wind could see him, somehow.

Time rounded the corner to the back of the house and saw two small shapes, yellow and light blue, that were most certainly _not_ the sailor hovering mere inches above the porch. He removed the Stone Mask and approached the shapes to find they were bouquets of flowers. The bouquets parted to reveal a small, wooden creature wearing a mask made of a leaf. The champion had shown off a mask resembling this kind of being before, a Korok. Now that he could see it, it lifted the hand holding the blue bouquet and waved to him.

He was barely able to blink before the porch beneath him disappeared and sent him plummeting through nothing.

* * *

Time couldn’t even venture a guess at how long he fell, all he knew was that the landing was not very soft at all. His entire body was punched from behind by flat stone that forced all of the air out of his chest. He lay flat for two seconds and groaned before sitting upright and looking around. Bare stone walls flanked him on either side, and the melody of urban life reached his ears from all around. He grunted as he stood upright and dusted himself off. After looking around the alley once more, he moved towards the street at one end, where citizens of many races strode by. As he reached the mouth of the alley, the citizens in the street began parting to the sides, clearing the center of the thoroughfare for a small procession to pass through.

The three things Time saw in this procession brought him to a halt.

The first was the young, blonde woman who walked at its center. The young woman clothed in a flowing, regal dress of royal blue, white, and gold. The young woman he’d just spoken to minutes earlier.

The second was the young man who walked behind her right shoulder. His hair and the ponytail it was pulled into were _much_ shorter, and he lacked his black cloak and the scars on his face, but the champion’s tunic left no doubt as to who he was. If it hadn’t, the Master Sword sheathed on his back certainly would’ve.

The third was the squad of soldiers who marched before and behind them both—men armed with greatswords sheathed on their backs or longswords sheathed at their hips, all wearing uniforms of fine, embroidered cloth of royal blue, crimson, white, and gold.

The princess’s words floated through Time’s mind and he retreated back into the alley. Once he was well out of sight of the street, he shed his armor piece by piece and stored it in his adventuring pouch before donning the Royal Guard uniform. He wasn’t surprised to find it was a perfect fit. Once he was fully changed and his Biggoron Sword was sheathed on his back, he emerged from the alley and followed the trail of Princess Zelda’s procession.

After three minutes and seventeen seconds of walking, he saw the rear line of the Guard formation standing at a halt in the center of the street. Two guardsmen flanked the door to a storefront, their greatswords held in a reverse grip with the tips of their blades planted in the ground. This was a terrible idea, all it’d take was for one member of the squad to turn around and suddenly, all eyes (and likely, blades) would be on him, but he could think of _nothing_ else.

He stepped into formation behind everyone else and did his best to blend in.

They stood there at rest for another two minutes and four seconds before the princess and her bodyguard emerged from the door between the two guardsmen, who returned their swords to their sheaths and returned to their places in the formation. The procession began walking down the center of the street, and Time did his best to march along without drawing any attention to himself. They marched for one minute and forty-nine seconds before they were brought to a halt, and Time barely managed to stop himself from walking into the soldier before him. From his place at the rear, he could make out the sound of Zelda’s voice in conversation with a man. They talked for one minute and fifty-eight seconds before the voice of another man cut through the air like a claymore.

“Squad! Atten _tion!!”_

The squad snapped to attention, and Time mimicked their movements as best as he could. Footsteps grew closer along the left side of the formation until an officer of some kind appeared in the corner of Time’s left eye and pointed to him. “You, stay with Her Majesty and the champion.” The officer then walked back towards the front of the formation before crying, “The rest of you: forward, _march!”_

The squad began marching forward while Zelda and the champion disappeared into another storefront. Time had no idea what else to do but play along, He did his best to replicate the stances of the guardsmen he’d seen earlier—he took position beside the storefront door, drew his Biggoron Sword, planted the tip of the blade on the street, and waited.

This was a Din-damned _terrible_ idea. He could _feel_ the burning fuse in his chest that would blow this whole charade up in his face. And he still didn’t know _why he was here_ or _what he was supposed to do._ Behind his stern mask, he made himself take a deep, slow breath, and then another, and then another.

The door to his right opened and closed, and the champion came into his view. The young hero stood a few feet away from the door and looked from one end of the street to the other. Time couldn’t help but fix his eye on his future comrade. Were he judging solely on body language, he would be certain that the young man before him was an entirely different person. This champion did not stand like a traveler, relaxed and loose. He stood like a statue, straight and still. An untrained eye might think him stiff, but Time could tell from years of fighting that he was anything but. He was a coiled spring, ready to—

The champion’s shoulders stiffened. He made a minute adjustment in his stance, and Time knew he was about to strike out. He followed the champion’s gaze forward—and met it in the storefront window across the street, where both of their reflections were clearly visible.

The champion spun about, the blessed steel blade of the Master Sword scraped against its scabbard, and Time didn’t even think before the words were out of his mouth.

_“Seafood meuniere.”_

The champion froze, blade half-drawn and gaze locked on Time’s face. When he made no further movement, Time said, “Her favorite meal is seafood meuniere. Made with hearty bass and bright-eyed crab.”

The champion held his ground for fourteen seconds, a storm raging in his eyes, before he slowly returned the Master Sword to his sheath and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t say a word, but Time could see the command in his eyes.

“I can’t tell you who I am or why I’m here,” he said. “I promise I will someday, but for now all I can give you is my word that I mean her no harm.”

The champion puzzled this over—until an armored Hylian soldier appeared beside them.

“Sir Champion,” the soldier greeted. “I have orders from the king, you are to report to him in the throne room immediately. I’m to take your place until you return.”

He handed a rolled parchment to the champion. Time watched the young hero read it and just _barely_ saw the champion’s shoulders hitch. The young hero looked from the parchment to the messenger and then back to the message. He took a slow breath in, rolled the parchment back up, and held it out to the messenger. “My orders are to guard the princess, Captain.”

“Yes, but these orders are more recent and bear the seal of the king. Therefore, they supersede your standing orders, and you must obey them immediately.”

Time felt every alarm bell in his head ring in unison, and if the scowl on the champion’s face were any indication, so did he. The bearer of the Master Sword looked to the parchment in his hand again for four seconds before turning to Time with a glare in his eyes that was clearly both a command and a warning. _“Watch her.”_

Time nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The champion held his gaze for another three seconds before walking away. Time held his stance and watched the captain approach—until he disappeared into Time’s blind spot. He snapped his gaze to the window across the street and watched the captain take position on the other side of the door. Not once in the following four minutes and three seconds did Time’s eye waver from the sight of the captain. It was the other man who finally broke the silence between them. 

“To be frank, there’s no need for more than one guard at a time on this detail. You’re dismissed.”

Time felt his muscles coil like the springs of a trap. “My orders are to guard the princess.”

“...And I’ve just relieved you of your duties.”

“They’re not your orders to relieve.”

“Are you disobeying a superior officer, _guardsman?”_

Time finally looked directly at the man and said, “I’m obeying the orders of the Hylian Champion, whose station supersedes your rank.”

The captain glared at Time and Time glared back. Neither moved an inch, but both pushed with all of their wills. They pushed and pushed and pushed until finally, the captain scowled and tore his gaze away. Time’s held for another four seconds before turning back to the captain’s reflection. The fuse in his chest burned hotter and faster, and he felt frustration swelling in his chest like a powder keg about to blow. He couldn’t strike first and blow his cover, no matter how sure of his gut he was. His only option was to let the captain make the first move.

His only option was to use the princess as bait.

It took every muscle in Time’s jaw to keep from scowling at himself.

One minute and fifteen seconds later, the door opened between them, and the world slowed to a crawl. Time saw the princess’s reflection emerge. He saw the princess appear in his view as she stepped into the street and looked about. He saw her turn around to face them. Behind her, he saw the captain’s reflection draw a blade.

The captain lunged forward and the springs in Time’s muscles snapped.

He stepped to his right and thrust his Biggoron Sword hilt-first into the captain’s stomach. The impact lifted the man a good foot off the ground, and gravity brought him back down on his hands and knees. Zelda gasped and recoiled back as Time flipped the grip on his Biggoron Sword and brought the flat of the blade down on the assassin’s back, laying him out flat on his face. Time rolled the captain over with his foot and pointed the blade at his throat.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The captain only sneered at him. Time opened his mouth to demand an answer, but the demand died in his throat when he saw the two rapidly growing shadows on the ground. He leapt aside, putting himself between the princess and the assassin just as two figures garbed in crimson fell from the sky and landed on their feet beside the captain. The assassin leapt to his feet and vanished in a puff of smoke that dissipated to reveal the same red uniform as his comrades. All three wore white masks bearing inverted Sheikah emblems and held sharp sickles; the one on the left seemed to be a woman, and the one on the right was burlier than the others.

“The Yiga Clan!” Zelda said.

Wild had told the other heroes of these traitors, so Time knew what he was dealing with. But the Yiga Clan didn’t know that he knew. “Yiga Clan?” he asked as he sheathed his Biggoron Sword. “Who’re they?”

“We are the heralds of the Great Lord Ganon’s return!” the fake captain said. He surely saw Time removing the white gloves from his uniform and reaching into his adventuring pouch, but neither he nor his comrades made any effort to stop him.

“We will usher in an age of darkness and liberation!” the left Yiga warrior cried. She also made no move to stop or question why Time was donning the pair of golden armor-plated gauntlets he’d withdrawn from his pouch.

“We will give every man the freedom and the _power_ to do _as he wishes_ without _consequence!”_ the right Yiga warrior added.

“And we will _start,”_ the center warrior said, “by eliminating _all_ who oppose his return, starting with the Princess of Destiny, and _any_ who stand in our way. If you flee now, we may spare you! But if you face us, you will surely meet your _doom!”_

Time said nothing.

The Yiga warriors all leapt back and readied attack stances. The fake captain said, “Any last words, fool?”

Time drew his Biggoron Sword from his back. “You really should’ve attacked first.”

The Yiga sprinted forward, the fake captain leading the charge in an arrowhead formation.

Without looking away from them, Time said, “Hold on to me, Your Majesty.”

The Yiga drew closer.

“What?” Zelda asked.

The Yiga drew closer.

“You need to hold on to me, Your Majesty, _now.”_

The Yiga drew _closer._

Zelda threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Time’s waist, but Time himself didn’t move an inch.

The Yiga drew closer and _closer and closer,_ and then they _swung their weapons—_

Which all clanged harmlessly off the blue, diamond-shaped barrier that had formed around Time and Zelda. The would-be assassins looked at the barrier for one second, looked among each other for three seconds, then wailed on the barrier for four seconds before they all finally stopped, stupefied.

Time gave them all one final glance, then lashed out with one wide swing of his Biggoron Sword that cleaved through all three of them, dropping them to the ground in pieces.

When the barrier fell and no other dangers appeared, Time said, “You can let go now, Your Majesty.”

Zelda stepped away and looked up to his face as he turned around. “You’re not part of the Royal Guard.”

That didn’t sound as accusatory as it could have, so Time figured he was probably in good standing. “No, Your Majesty, but I am here to help. Is there somewhere safe we can go?”

Zelda nodded. “There’s a safehouse nearby where we can notify the guards.”

Time held a hand out. “Lead the way.”

* * *

At the safehouse, Zelda released a carrier pigeon that beelined straight for the Castle, where a detachment of Royal Guards would be deployed to retrieve the princess. Meanwhile, Time had changed out of the Guard uniform and packed it back into the satchel he’d received it in. Now back in his own armor with the satchel on his shoulder, he returned to the main room, where Zelda sat at a table with her brows furrowed in thought. She was pulled back to the present moment by the sound of his entrance, and she stood to face him.

“Who are you? Where is Link?”

“The assassin who posed as a captain brought him a set of orders to return to the castle immediately,” Time said as he crossed the room to stand before her. “The parchment bore the seal of the king.”

Zelda frowned and she looked away. “The Yiga have found a way to replicate my father’s seal? That’s…” Her gaze returned to Time with force. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

Time opened his mouth to say _You probably won’t believe me,_ but he remembered that Zelda had called him out by his title. He said, “I’m the Hero of Time.”

Zelda stared at him for three seconds. “Excuse me?”

“I’m the Hero of Time.”

The arch in her eyebrow told him exactly what she thought of that. “...You’re the Hero of Time?”

“Yes,” he said as he placed the satchel on the table beside them and started loosening the gauntlet on his left hand.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

“How? How in all of Hylia’s domain could you expect me to—”

She froze when Time presented the back of his left hand, and the mark of the Triforce, to her. She stared, her mouth slightly agape, for five seconds while Time pulled his gauntlet back on. Finally, she whispered, “How...how are you...what are…”

“I don’t know for certain,” Time said as he picked the satchel up off the table. “It’s a long story that you will hear, someday, but right now, all you need to know is that I was in your future, where I met you.”

Zelda blinked. “My future? _My future?_ You mean you’ve—”

“I promise you, you will find out. Right now, what’s important is that I give you this.” He held out the satchel to her. “When we meet for the first— _my_ first time, you need to give this to me.”

Zelda took the satchel and her eyes widened as she whispered, “ A causal loop.”

“A what?”

“A causal loop,” she said, her voice louder and more confident. “An unchanging, self-originating temporal paradox in which a force from the present is sent to the past, where it acts and sets off a chain of events that leads to the force going back in the first place.”

Time stared at her for four seconds. “Okay.”

“Is this all I need to give you?” she asked, holding up the satchel.

“No, you also need to tell me to put that uniform on when I see others wearing it. And your favorite meal.”

“My favorite meal?”

“Yes, seafood meuniere made with hearty bass and bright-eyed crab.”

“Why do you need to know _that?”_

“It lets the champio—Link know that I can be trusted.”

Zelda nodded. “What will you do now?”

Time frowned. “Try to find my way back to where I was.”

“You don’t already know how to get there?”

“No. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know how I got _here.”_

Now it was Zelda who frowned. “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m grateful you were here.”

Time smiled at her. “I’m glad I could help.”

Zelda looked to the door. “The guards should be here soon, and they’ll have questions. You should...probably be going.”

Time nodded. “I should. Farewell, Your Majesty. Until we meet again.”

She smiled at that. “Until we meet again.”

Time crossed the room and exited through the door, casting one last look about for anything suspicious. He was about to pick a random direction and start walking when a noise to his right drew his attention. Across the street, he saw a flash of yellow and light blue dart into an alleyway. He followed at an easy pace and came to a stop at the center of the alley when he found the same Korok that led him into this affair at his feet. “Hello, you.”

The Korok raised the hand holding the yellow flowers and waved.

Time took a deep breath and then fell into nothing.

* * *

The air was knocked from Time’s chest once again by the landing, this time on a wooden surface instead of a stone one. He groaned as he pulled himself up to his feet and leaned his hips forward until he felt a resounding _pop_ in the base of his spine. After letting out a mighty sigh, he took in his surroundings to find that he was back on the porch behind Impa’s house. Based on the position of the shadows, it would seem that he, technically, hadn’t been gone at all. Rolling his head to get a few pops out of his neck, he made his way back around to the front and made his way down the stairs. Waiting at the bottom was none other than Wild himself. 

“What was that about?”

Time gave him a small smile as he wrapped an arm around the champion’s shoulders and pulled him along. “Well, I did promise you I’d tell you someday, but you’ll have to keep it between us.”

“You promised me what? When?”

Time chuckled. “That’s the kind of the root of it all. Your princess had something for me…”

**THE END**


	5. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this piece of fanart by Tundra (@snowcapmt on Instagram): https://www.instagram.com/p/CD4RS23pDT7/?igshid=1j2ztklrtlict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially wrote four stories as part of the Artist Appreciation Project on the LU Discord server, but due to various circumstances, not every artist who was supposed to receive a gift did so. I eventually signed on to help get gifts to these artists, and this new chapter is my contribution to that effort.

Zelda can’t recall when exactly she’d started smiling, but she knows she’s been doing it for _awhile_ now. One expects to smile at a party of course, but she still finds herself amazed by the sheer _volume_ of joy that permeates this small town. Torches and campfires illuminate Tarrey Town’s central plaza, giving the settlement a physical warmth that harmonizes with the warmth exuding from the laughing, dancing residents. The entire town is aflame with music, laughter, food, dancing, and love.

Zelda _loves_ this town. She’s loved it since she first laid eyes on it, unconventional architecture and all. She loves this new piece of life, grown from the ground up in the indifferent wilds and filled with people of all races and cultures. A new piece of life that was _thriving_. She’s only been here for less than a day, but already she cherishes it as if it were her child. 

Which, of course, it’s not. If anyone can claim parentage of this town, it’s Link.

Still smiling, Zelda scans the crowd until she finds him still dancing with Rhondson. She can’t help but laugh at the sight, because “dancing” is a very generous word for what she sees. Rhondson holds Link against her chest with one arm and holds his hand with the other. She moves about with all of the grace, speed, and flow of an experienced dancer, and Link simply holds on for the ride while his feet dangle a good four feet off the ground.

Zelda doesn’t know how it can still be funny every time she sees it, but it is.

Her gaze finally pulls away to drift over the dancing crowd. She lifts her cup to her mouth and manages to drink without spilling any from the corners of her smile. There’s no alcohol in the punch, but she feels a buzz in her soul just from the joy in the air.

Hunnie and Pelison move to the music with the utter abandon that only childhood can muster. Monari and Moggs can’t quite match the pace of the song, but they dance to their own tune all the same. A trio of Zora who’d stopped to rest in the town have found themselves all dancing with Grayson, who moves between them all with an unexpected smoothness.

Right now, on this night, everyone is in a world of joy all their own.

Link is suddenly at her side, lifting his cup from her table and chugging half of it down in two gulps. He pulls the cup away from his mouth and lets out a loud smack of the lips and a heavy sigh. Zelda laughs again.

“Enjoy yourself?” she asks.

He grins at her. _“Opulently.”_

She guffaws. “‘Opulently?’” she manages to say through her giggles. “That’s not what that means!”

He shrugs and smiles at her, and she feels the inferno rage in her chest. “Eh, I’m a traveler, not a worder.”

She laughs even more before she manages to finish off her punch. She’s barely placed her cup down on the table before his right hand suddenly grasps her left and pulls her to her feet. She lets out a startled yelp before she realizes that they’re now in the crowd of dancers. She’s laughing even as she feels his right hand settle on her back.

“I haven’t danced in a century!” she says, her left hand settling on his shoulder. He’s laughing just as much as she is, and her heart has become the inner crater of Death Mountain.

“Well luckily,” he laughs, “I’m even more clueless than you!”

And he’s quick to prove it. They don’t dance so much as stumble. There are no fewer than three moments when Zelda feels her heart plummet and she’s certain they’re going to topple over, but they manage to save themselves somehow. And they keep going. They stumble and bumble and wobble about and laugh all the while.

And then the music changes, the fast, energetic tune becoming slow and heartfelt.

Still laughing, they come to a stop; his right hand moves away from her back and his left loosens its grip on her hand.

Zelda acts before she even thinks.

She snatches his right wrist and keeps her grip on his left hand, then pulls both of his hands in to rest on her waist. She looks directly into his eyes and sees them widen as she drapes her forearms over the back of his neck.

They take one step, and then a second, and then a third and a fourth and a fifth.

They sway from side to side with each, their eyes locked on each other’s. Their smiles have both shrunk to something uncertain but genuine. She hardly notices, though, for she’s lost in his eyes. They’re big, round, and indescribably blue, and they look as terrified as she feels.

 _Gosh,_ they’re pretty.

They step and sway.

Step and sway.

Step and sway.

She doesn’t bring herself to the point of kissing him.

But she comes close.

She comes _thiiiiis_ close.

But she just steps and sways.

Steps and sways.

Ten minutes from now, she’ll be kicking and berating herself for not going for it.

Thirty minutes from now, she’ll be relieved that she let the moment go by.

The next morning, she’ll wake up daydreaming with longing for what _could_ have been.

And three days from now, they’ll finally take the plunge together over breakfast, but she’s blissfully unaware of that right now.

Some might even say “clueless.”

But that’ll be then.

This is now, and right now, she just stares into his beautiful, blue eyes and steps and sways.

Steps and sways.

Steps and sways.

**THE END**


End file.
